Taking This One To The Streets
by Slittlej
Summary: The fallout once Toby's house is practically blown to bits. Ezria. Hanna and Spencer are in this one too.
1. Chapter 1

None of us want to think it, but we are. We're thinking it loudly and clearly, all of us who are on hand, as Toby's venerable house burns out of control beneath the gibbous moon. Why his house destroyed in one fell swoop? Whose might be next? We watch, in absolute horror, just how quickly bad goes to worse. Here we go again, our lives turned upside down, a never-ending saga.

"This can't be happening," Hanna breathes, shaking involuntarily, her voice quivering.

Black smoke chokes us and darkens the street along with our minds. Minds gripped in fear anew. This is no dream; it's a nerve-wracking nightmare, horrific. It can't be happening. Only thing-it is, as sure as all of us are standing here, quaking in our trendy, fashionable footwear. As if we don't know what shellshocked feels like, a bomb has landed.

"_Mona_ didn't do this," Alison reiterates. "There wasn't time. Impossible for her to be quick enough."

A is back, back with a vengeance. She's become a mad bomber. We're all thinking that, like we're having the identical weird symbiotic revelation.

"A…" Spencer barely pushes out coherently, sounding the victim of bad stomach cramps. I imagine that hers is knotting painfully. Suspicion confirmed, as I watch her double over as though she's just been sucker-punched smack in the gut. Frustration smudges her face, clouding the intelligence in her eyes. Tears well up in them. "Toby…"

"Who else?" Emily corroborates, a sickened look etching her face. "A is our plague. Our scourge."

"We're never going to be free, are we?" I whisper, demoralized. I feel the noose I keep imagining tightened around my neck. "Denied whatever illusion of freedom there is of living peaceful lives." Shana's death, and now this, tear at what little sanity I have left. And that's precious little. I can't erase the image of her lifeless body, its blood pooling beneath her. I have day-and nightmares. I barely sleep or eat. Every time what I've done looms up, haunting me, time stands still. I can't go forward. My mind races as I agonize, wanting a 'reset' desperately. Remorse stabs me constantly. Inescapable guilt engulfs me, wherever I go. My distress is palpable. So much so that it elicits Ezra's immediate response. He attempts to comfort me as my shaken friends close ranks. "Picture us married, with children, and A will still be after us. Our kids too," I lament.

The five of us shudder in unison, trying not to imagine the sheer torture of a life like that. This present day roller coaster ride is pretty awful as it is. With A back in business, she could very well drive us straight over the edge.

"This has got to stop!" we hear Hanna whine, pouting full on, stamping her foot. I'm guessing that she can't decide whether to bolt, or wait until we know what we're doing. Like we know what we're doing. The sensation of falling to earth, fearfully anticipating a very hard landing grips me as we wait for the first emergency vehicle to arrive.

"_Mona_ is A. Her accomplice did this. She won't stop until she murders me, and anyone else she's crazy enough to believe is on my side." Alison is cocksure, standing transfixed, her eyes locked on the wreckage. "She's out for blood."

"Thank God Toby wasn't home. I hope nobody else was." Spencer returns bleak eyes to the shambles her boyfriend's residence has been reduced to.

I can't help finding myself agreeing with her. Alison's return has been hard on everyone, with capitals H and E. We're trying to weather her reappearance as best we can, but tonight clearly demonstrates we're losing ground, and losing it frightfully fast. Literally. A friend's house has been obliterated, along with a good portion of our neighborhood. Property values won't stand a chance if this keeps up. "We can't stay in Rosewood. It isn't safe," I hushedly direct to Ezra, whose protective arms engulf me. He's wearing this cornered look, as though he's ready to clear out as quickly as possible too. We're both on the same fail-safe wavelength.

"Aria," he replies, "Whatever you decide, I'm in this with you."

"Tonight, she's gone too far!" I tell him, stone-faced, and he nods.

"We could go back to New York," Ezra suggests.

Before I can answer him, Spencer says, "Toby, you're coming with us. My mom and me. I think Melissa too; that is if she wants to come. Mom's leaving my dad. She says she has no other choice. We might be for good, or for a little while. All I know is we want you with us."

I glance at Ezra, making it clear to him that I'm unable to believe my ears. I can't help but think: _Where, in our troubled world, will A's madness take us now_?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The voice has changed, which is bound to happen with this story. Shifting P.O.V.'s make things more interesting, don't you think? Now back to our regularly-programmed adventures.

* * *

Ezra, strained, resolved that if Aria wanted him, he'd always be there for her. Stretched out on his bed, supine, he wrestled with the hosts of ways she was vulnerable. Stiffening, a part of him tingled, picturing her in utter darkness somewhere, screaming for help. The mandate to rush to her gripped him. Yeah, of course—what alternative did he have? He loved her still, so much, unabashedly. Letting it show more would help. But, he needed to exercise great care, lest he spook her, the last thing she needed. He couldn't risk that. But had he spooked her already? Seriously?

He'd already psyched her out with his many half-truths and outright deceptions, such a long list of reckless actions in so short a time. His breath hitched. Involuntarily, he recoiled. Over and over, he'd violated her trust. Aria's, along with all of those pretty young ladies, her bosom buddies. He was profoundly sorry, but that did nothing to make up for what he'd done. He might have died, but before he did, if he were going to die, he had lain there wounded on that rooftop, incredulous. He'd never been shot in his life! Who had done this to him? He'd made a silent promise to his badly shaken Aria and those anxious girls, likewise distraught. The vow he'd silently made, still undisclosed, was this:

The apprehension of murderous A was his top priority.

Nothing else mattered. Protecting Aria from the 'evil genius' was all important. As he thought about it, he concluded that she needed safeguarding to protect her from him too. He tossed on his bed, kicking his legs free of the light quilt comforter. She had turned to him in her fright. And what had he done? He'd taken advantage of the situation, suckered Aria. Bedding her, instead of being just the shoulder she was in need of crying on. _Shame on you, man_, Ezra reproached. From checkers and chess to hooking up in zero seconds flat. He told himself she'd been okay with his march to intimacy, but the aftermath was these deep feelings of ugliness. He'd manipulated her. Aversion prickled beneath his skin as his conscience shot down his maggoty rationalizations.

_You're selfish, selfish. Selfish and terrified you'll lose her. Is that why you were so aggressive?_

"You don't deserve her and you know it," he chastised in the inky silence of his bedroom. It was an inhospitable damp night. Thick, shrouding cloud cover threatened to unleash bucketfuls of rain.

Aria wasn't asleep under his roof. She was here with him, apart from him, sleep eluding her, despite the late hour. She lay wide awake, thinking about how badly she'd been shaken by the shooting and wincing about everything else that had transpired thereafter. Horror had returned. Seconds inexorably ticked by. All of a sudden, a numbing coldness swept through her. The unrelenting stillness of his living room filled her with grave foreboding. Certain that Ezra must be sleeping, she sighed again. Force of habit made her mouth spring open and "Ezra," jumped out.

"Aria?"

Far from somnolent, he spoke while poking gingerly at the disfiguring wound the bullet had caused. It stung at his touch, quite the annoyance. According to the physician, he would always bear this severe scar. Routine blood testing for lead was in his future, trials he'd have to endure, no other choice. Keeping an eye on lead absorption into his bloodstream was now imperative. Surgery to remove lead debris from the bullet had been unsuccessful. In a nutshell, his health was at high risk. He refused taking the prescribed pain medication, despite his continued need for some form of pain management. Stubbornly his choice, he was going to tough it out. The narcotic was insidiously habit-forming and he had no desire to cultivate that kind of habit.

Her pulse racing, Aria startled, her heartbeats ragged. She waited before she answered, counting off seconds. "Yes?"

"Sorry if I woke you." He applied his voice like balm, thankful that she had chosen his living room to hole up in, instead of braving her own uninviting bedroom on her own. She felt safe here; he wanted that for her, hoping he hadn't helped spoiling it for her. They'd mutually agreed to take to separate quarters tonight, Aria insisting he remain in his bed. "Did I wake you?"

She judged he sounded somewhat tense, as though he was laying composure on a little too thick. "I wasn't asleep." She stopped fiddling with the fabric of her lace yolk tank top. Distracting herself, she bundled up the fleece blanket in her delicate hands, gently wringing it. With halting speech, she judged that she should ask what was uppermost in her mind. "Do you…" Ruing how tongue-tied she sounded, she began again, determined to get it out. "Do you think A blew up Toby's house?"

Ezra hesitated, stalling, weighing his words carefully. In truth, he wasn't sure how to proceed, wasn't sure if the common nemesis was responsible. He searched himself, coming up short. Aria's conscience was tearing her apart, her guilt eating her alive, unable to live down what she'd done. Obviously, Shana was not A. She was defunct. No absolution for Aria there. Wisely, he chose to say, "Whoever did such a vile thing must be brought to justice. And soon." Malicious intent was alive and ruthless in Rosewood once again, sadly.

"That's been a tall order so far," Aria rendered, annoyed, pounding her fists into the couch pillow. "It's always the same. Too many questions going unanswered all at the same time."

"Want to talk about it?" he deferred, waiting for her to respond, she not forthcoming with an answer. "Aria?"

With drooping eyelids and her yawn following, Aria replied, "Not right now. Goodnight, Ezra. We'll talk in the morning." Her yawn deepening then, she cocooned herself with the blanket, tucking its downy edging beneath her chin. Following another sigh, she closed her eyes.

"'Night," Ezra returned, doting, foregoing wishing her sweet dreams. That would add insult to injury.

And she dreamed…

_Tears blurred her wavering vision. Fuzzily, Shana sprang up, taking dead aim at Hanna, Spencer and Emily, who clamored for mercy. Her friends, filled with fright, swam before her compromised eyes. Shana's pitiless eyes mocked them. Their plaintive cries reverberated throughout the empty theatre, ringing in her ears. She drew up short, gasping. Her escaped gasp drowned out the terrified cries of her friends. "Shana, put down that gun!" The steely-eyed gun 'toter' sneered, her intent all too clear. Shana's eyes were eerie, doll-like eyes, devoid of every feeling, every emotion, staring straight at her. They consumed her, smothered her with vicious intensity. Her jaw was cramping, her legs were moving, thrusting her into action a split second before Shana cocked to fire. The bullet meant for her killed the light instead. Acting on instinct, she toppled Shana, bulldozing her into the orchestra pit!_

_Her agonized voice thundered in the ears of her friends and her own. "It was an accident. I'm sorry—I'm sorry! Shana—Shana—Shana!"_

Aria bolted up into a sitting position with handfuls of the blanket in her gripping hands. Sweat drenched her forehead and neck. Her ear-shattering shouts brought Ezra, his bare chest heaving, running as though his room were on fire. "Aria, Aria!" He sank onto the couch, nearly on top of her, covering her like the blanket she'd wrapped herself in before her descent into phantasmagoric bedlam. "Sweetie, it'll be all right." His heart up his throat, he cleared it, hating how gruff he sounded.

Shuddering against his shirtless flesh, demoralized, Aria whimpered. Forming coherent words was a battle until she struggled to release, "_My fault_…"

"It will never be your fault," Ezra assuaged, squeezing her tighter. How he wished he could exorcise this wretched tribulation from her soul. "Never in a million years."

Conflicted, Aria wheezed, "No…it always will be."

"You'll see. What has happened will pass. You'll be stronger for it."

She buried her face into his strong, warm shoulder, her copious tears bathing his skin.

"Hush, hush," he soothed. "You're so brave. So dynamic. You're everything that's good in my life."

Aria mumbled, "Ezra…"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you. Help me. Please…help me."

Tenderly, he cupped her small face in the palms of his hands. All her color had drained away. His lips made love to hers. Drawing away a hairsbreadth from them, he vowed, "I'm here. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. I'm yours."

Said in that voice, Aria heeded, eliciting Ezra's cradling her in his arms the whole night. They relished the restful sleep. Something they hadn't enjoyed in ages. Later that morning, they discussed their next move, Ezra clarifying that whatever move made must be done together.

"You said, New York. Maybe?"

Nodding, he replied, "If it's New York you want, then New York it'll be." He almost asked her to marry him, but his feet turned cold. "I'll go with you anywhere. Stay with you as long as you like." He made sure to look her in the eye when he said, "All right?"

She nodded along with him. "Ezra, I really don't know what to do. It's just so crazy here. I'm hoping things'll get better."

Rolling his eyes, Ezra quipped, "And when will _that_ be? When pigs fly?"

"Well...not as long as that. I hope."


End file.
